The Civil War Comes to St. Joseph
It is a reminder of the extreme passions of that time that many of the files of the newspapers published in Saint Joseph during the period of the outbreak of the Civil War were destroyed. The Daily Gazette was closed down by the federal authorities in 1861 because of its political sentiments and Colonel J. H. R. Cundiff, the publisher, a Virginia man, left to join the Confederate Army. The best remaining account of events in Saint Joseph during the war was written by Charles B. Wilkinson who came to St. Joseph in January 1860 from upstate New York to practice law. He was a strong supporter of Stephen A. Douglas and a Union man. In February 1862 he began the publication of the St. Joseph Morning Herald, a Republican paper. He wrote: ‘Fort Sumter fell on April 14, 1861. On Saturday, April 20, a company of thirty-four well-known residents of the county rode into St. Joseph, each rider sporting a red shirt, blue cockade and, brace of revolvers. One demure-looking farmer bore aloft the banner of the Southern Confederacy. A public meeting was to be held, that Saturday afternoon, at the Court-House, and the streets were filled with anxious and excited men. Secession flags waved from the windows and balconies of private residences, and the current was very overpoweringly secessionward. The column of mounted men rode leisurely down Felix Street, bearing the flag and clothed with the insignia of treason, cheered on by crowds of men and boys, who shouted for Jeff. Davis and groaned for the Union and its defenders. At the western terminus of the street a pole was erected and the banner thus borne in the procession was hoisted thereon, amid deafening huzzas and salvos of artillery. A young lawyer harangued the multitude and declared that the flag that day unfurled in St. Joseph should never descend “except drenched in fraternal blood”.’ ‘About midnight a boy of eighteen, from Kansas, had crossed the Missouri River in a skiff, climbed the flagpole, pocketed the flag, and safely recrossed to Elwood. Sunday morning, the rebels were very excited over the discovery that their flag did not still wave over St. Joseph, and that its descent was not attended by a bloody baptism. A lady kindly furnished another flag, which was replaced, and the curses of sympathizing friends were changed into hilarious cheers. The fluttering of that flag killed the trade and commerce of the town. It was kept flying till whipped into shreds and tatters by the elements. The day it was unfurled, Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Chairman of the House Committee on Post-offices and Post-roads, visited the city, on the invitation of gentlemen interested in making that the initial point of the Overland Mail Route and the Pacific Railway. The Common Council tendered him a supper, escorted him through the city in costly carriages, and paid him marked and deferential attention; but the rebel flag was constantly flying, and no other emblem was allowed to be thrown to the breeze. The Federal Government did not locate the eastern terminus of the Pacific Railway near St. Joseph, and Congress did not vote material aid to any of the enterprises of hercitizens. ‘At the meeting held at the Courthouse on Saturday afternoon, April 20, a resolution was offered, debated, and almost unanimously passed, “that Mr. Lincoln's appointee to the office of Postmaster be requested not to attempt to discharge the duties of that position in St. Joseph.” On that occasion, any resolution in the interest of the Southern Confederacy would have been agreed to with a whirlwind of enthusiasm, for it were as feasible a plan to attempt to dip the Missouri dry with a pitchfork as to control or head off the mob there congregated. ‘But the new Postmaster made his appearance, quietly took possession of the St. Joseph office, and, after being duly installed, unfurled the flag of the Union from the roof of the Post-office building. The sight of that flag produced more excitement among the people than had ever been witnessed in the city before. A noisy, angry crowd the building; with shouts and yells they clambered upon the roof, hauled down the flag, tore it into shreds, and trampled it in the mud and mire of the gutters of Francis Street. The loyal Germans had raised the banner of the stars over Turner Hall, and the mob marched thither and ordered it down. It promptly lowered at their bidding. The next day, the City met and passed an ordinance forbidding the raising of any flag . the corporate limits of St. Joseph, and authorizing the Marshal, with the assistance of all good citizens,” to forcibly remove every such case of irritation. The Union citizens called upon the Government for troops. This demand was stoutly resisted by the Conservatives, one of whom wrote to a St. Louis newspaper, June 5th, that, if an armed force were placed in St. Joseph, there would be "an uprising among the people such as was never witnessed before.” He was right. The next Monday evening, 300 Federal soldiers, commanded by Captain Alfred Sully 40, son of Thomas Sully, American portrait painter pitched their tents near the Patee House, and such an uprising and breaking for adjacent timber as was shown by the Secessionists of that town was never seen before. The morning after his arrival, Captain Sully unfurled the stars-and-stripes from the dome of the Patee House. As the old flag swung out to the breeze, the soldiers and citizens sent up a shout that made the ground tremble. The band struck up The Spangled Banner, drums rolled, fifes shrieked, and Union men she tears at the sight of the dear old ensign. Soon, the Huxley House ran up the banner, and in two hours the roofs of nearly all the houses in the vicinity were decorated with this emblem of nationality. T Marshal, with a posse of twelve men, repaired to the landlord al ordered him to obey the laws of the city and strike his colors. He refused, but introduced the officer to Captain Sully, who politely formed him that his business in St. Joseph was to defend the flag of his country. He had unfurled it, and when it descended he and his command must fall with it. The next evening the ordinance was repealed. ‘The news of the arrival of Captain Sully and the Regulars rapidly spread to the neighboring counties, and the rural population flocked into the city to see, with their own eyes, the “invasion”' of the "tyrant Lincoln.” They usually expressed much amazement at the audacity of the soldiers, and wondered why the “Knights” had not prevented their entrance into the city. ‘On April 20, about fifty Secessionists had marched to Liberty, Clay county, Missouri, and taken from the Federal arsenal its store of guns, cannon and ammunition, all of which were transported to St. Joseph. The arrival of Federal soldiers necessitated the hiding of these munitions of war, and Captain Sully's forces were kept busy in ferreting out the hiding places and bringing to light the concealed treasures. ‘One afternoon, four unarmed soldiers of Company E, 2d Infantry, Captain Steele, were in a saloon on Second Street and somewhat noisy, when a bystander drew his revolver and shot one of them, named Ryan, through the heart. As the dead soldier was carried across the street, the crowd congregated around the market-place and gave three cheers for Jeff Davis, and three for the murderer of “the hireling.” The news flew through the camp like wildfire. Captain Sully formed his men into line and, with two pieces of ordnance, was about to march his entire force into the city, when the Mayor assured him that a full and impartial investigation should be had, and the murderer punished. No such investigation was ever held, and the party is still unpunished. ‘On Monday morning, June 17, a company of United States dragoons marched through the streets of the city and halted in front of the post-office building. One of them stepped to the door and received a splendid flag from the newsdealer who was under indictment for selling copies of the Free Democrat and New York Tribune. By this time quite a concourse of citizens had gathered on Second and Francis Streets, in the vicinity of the Post-office. Two soldiers carried the flag to the roof of the building and proceeded to runit up the flagstaff. As the people caught sight of it, Unionists cheered lustily, and those who had previously assisted in tearing the flag from that roof sullenly cursed the entire proceedings and all engaged in it. After raising the flag, the dragoons called for “three cheers for the old flag,' and they were given with a hearty good-will. A merchant then mounted a dry-goods box on the opposite sidewalk and proceeded to give “three groans for the men who hoisted that Abolition flag.' He gave two guttural, mournful groans, when a dragoon pointed a pistol at him and asked him to “give the other”. The doughty retailer of small wares jumped from the box and ran into his store. The company then marched to Felix Street and deliberately chopped down the pole which had borne the rebel flag. No flag of the Southern Confederacy was ever publicly raised in St. Joseph afterward. ‘On Saturday, June 15, Colonel S. R. Curtis arrived in the city, with the 2d Regiment of Iowa Volunteers. On their way across the State they captured several Secession flags, and at Stewartsville, 21 miles from St. Joseph, one of the soldiers shot a lad who, with pistol in hand, was attempting to defend the rebel colors flying from the roof of his father's dwelling. As soon as it was known that a thousand more soldiers were in the city, the rebels took to their heels and fled in all directions. The leader of the company which robbed the Liberty arsenal was in the Pacific House when the train arrived, bearing troops. He fled through a back window, and secreted himself in the woods north of the city. Captain Boyd, one of Buford's men who marched from South Carolina to fight the Free-State men of Kansas, was at the head of a secret organization of Southerners who drilled nightly in a building on Main street. He left his hiding-place and repaired to Governor Jackson's military headquarters, where he received orders to recruit a cavalry company for the Confederate service. ‘Colonel Curtis received a dispatch announcing a plot for burning the railroad bridge near Cameron, thirty-five miles east of St. Joseph. Two companies of soldiers hastened thither and found the timbers of the large bridge saturated with turpentine and already burning. They extinguished the fire and sent into camp four Secession flags, a number of guns, a large quantity of ammunition, and twenty-one prisoners. Soon afterward, a company was sent to Maysville, DeKalb county, where a mob of three hundred rebels had shot down the American flag, burned it in the streets, and attempted to drive loyal citizens from the place. The three hundred ran at the sight of the Volunteers, who gave chase, but were unable to get within rifle-shot of them. Thursday evening, June 20th, Captain Gilbert, of the regular army marched his company to the railroad depot for a trip to Macon, Mo., where it was reported that a regiment of Confederate "State Guards' was encamped. The soldiers presented a fine appearance while marching, their bayonets glistening in the moonlight, and the air vocal with their efforts to sing and whistle our popular national anthem. To the question whether the men knew their destination, the Captain replied that they knew ball-cartridges had been dealt to them, and that was always sufficient to cause them to sing Hail Columbia. Thus the Federal soldiers were employed in the city and surrounding country until the latter part of August. Previous to their advent, the Union men were enlisting into companies for actual service; but so strong was the adverse sentiment of the city that the volunteers were forced to remain in Elwood, where supplies were sent them by their friends. In July, Colonel Everett Peabody had thus succeeded in organizing a battalion for three years' service, which was eventually increased to a regiment. The battle of Wilson's Creek in southwestern Missouri was fought on August 10 and General Lyon was killed. After that the enlistments in Colonel Peabody's force increased till on the 13th of August he had about 700 volunteers in camp. All other soldiers had been withdrawn from the city, and it was soon rumored that even this force would be ordered to Lexington, which was threatened by the army under General Sterling Price. As one result of the battle of Wilson's Creek, the country surrounding St. Joseph was filled with soldiers who organized recruiting camps for the Rebellion, in every county. It was well known that such a camp was formed near the city, and that young men were flocking to it nightly, when the order came to Colonel Peabody to strike his tents, and march to Lexington. ‘Tuesday evening, August 27, the clear, full moon sailing over the hills which environ St. Joseph revealed the gleaming bayonets of a thousand soldiers of Colonel Peabody’s gallant 13th Missouri Regiment, en route to Kansas City. Not a Federal soldier was left in St. Joseph, though 3,000 Confederates were encamped, in small divisions, within a circuit of twenty miles from the court-house. With the departure of those troops, went the hopes of six or seven hundred loyal men who were soon to see their homes and liberties at the disposal of an armed mob. Previous to the month of June, they had known very little of the protecting care of the Government. When troops arrived from Fort Leavenworth, these men held up their heads, as loftily as Unionists did in Washington after Webster replied to Hayne; but they were few and feeble, and their hearts sank within them when bereft of all protection. Friday morning, August 30, sixty-four armed men, mounted on sorry-looking nags, rode into the city, whooping and yelling for Jeff Davis. They were headed by the South Carolinian before mentioned, Captain John R. Boyd, whose history is well known to the settlers of Kansas. After Buford's troops left that Territory, Captain Boyd opened a law-office in Doniphan, Kansas, which was burned down on a certain night, he barely escaping with his life. He went to St. Joseph, where he was engaged in practicing law until the advent of Federal soldiers, when he prudently, and very precipitately, fled. In 1862, Boyd was killed in a raid on Independence, Missouri. The horsemen commanded by him in the capture of St. Joseph were poorly armed with old, rusty, double-barrelled shot-guns and horse pistols. The cavalcade rode up Second Street, formed into line in front of the Post-office, and gave a round of cheers for the Southern Confederacy. Then riding up Fifth Street, they halted and a young lady presented them with a Secession banner. Other ladies made them happy by offerings of bouquets, rosettes and tiny flags, and, after arresting a recruiting officer of Colonel Peabody's regiment, they departed from the city with their prisoner, bouquets, cockades and banners. That day, a large number of depositors withdrew their money from the banks of the city, through fear of a general plundering of individuals and corporations. A feeling of deep despondency settled upon all Union men of the city. ‘While these things were occurring, a document was circulated for signatures, the leading feature of which was that the citizens of St. Joseph deprecated the stationing of any troops in the city, and pledged themselves to maintain peace and order, without assistance from any quarter. As the Union men had continually clamored for the protection of Federal bayonets, and had been thus guarded for ten weeks, at an expense to the Government of more than one hundred thousand dollars, they were not swift to rely on their rebel brethren in the matter of protection, and the signatures of but three loyal men could be obtained wherewith to flavor the unsavory document. The object of the paper was to prevent the sending of Federal soldiers to that point till the enemy, already there, were fully recruited, clothed, armed and provisioned. Each night, a guard of mounted pickets surrounded the city, and each day the soldiers rode into town, searched the houses of loyal men, and disarmed loyal citizens. Scores of young men-lawyers, editors, physicians and clerks -who ran from the county when Colonel Curtis entered the city, were again on the streets, boasting of the number of Federals they had killed at Carthage and Springfield. ‘Sunday, September 1, a new camp was formed about two miles from the city, and Captain Boyd called for volunteers. That night, the proclamation of General Fremont was received, and the next morning the only newspaper permitted in the city called upon all to hurry to the nearest camp, with clubs and axes, to assist in driving the “hirelings' from the State. ‘The greatest excitement prevailed in the city, and hundreds of men and boys went into the camps. The commander of the outside forces sent a requisition into town for eight thousand dollars' worth of goods in exchange for the worthless scrip issued by Governor Jackson, who was then in armed rebellion against the Federal forces. It was reported that only those merchants who were known “sympathizers' would be called upon to fill the requisition; but Union men expected a general pillage. Monday and Tuesday teams were hauling goods from certain stores to the camp. At night, Union merchants hurried their stocks of goods across the river, and stored them in Elwood; but only a few were thus fortunate. Hundreds of citizens crossed the river; almost every store was closed; and the entire city looked more like a deserted village, than the lively, prosperous St. Joseph of a year previous. Tuesday night the steam ferry-boat was engaged in transporting across the river, men, women, children, horses, cattle and goods of every description. ‘Wednesday morning, the city was startled by the rumor that the railroad bridge over Platte River, nine miles from St. Joseph, was burnt, and a passenger train destroyed. At 9 A.M. the train which had been sent from the city to the bridge arrived at the St. Joseph depot with eighteen dead bodies, and about eighty wounded passengers. Of a train of cars containing ninety-four passengers, only three persons were uninjured. Lying in and around the depot building, were mangled, lifeless forms, and men and women with crushed and broken limbs. Except the baggage-man, every person employed on the train was killed. The conductor, engineer, fireman, two brakemen and the mail agent, lay there stark dead. Several Conservative ladies stood by unmoved. One of them said she trusted every bridge was destroyed, and every rail torn up, on the Abolition road. Two men carried past her the lifeless form of the conductor of the ill-fated train. On learning who it was, she exclaimed, “No matter, he was but a miserable Abolitionist.’ ‘These very unpleasant incidents are related that my readers may judge of the intensity of the bitterness which then possessed the Secessionists of St. Joseph. That bridge was burned by some of the soldiers who were daily fed and clothed by the inhabitants of that town. The few Union men left in the city were very much exasperated, and they agreed to make a public demonstration on Thursday, the day appointed for the funeral. But about noon, Thursday, the Confederates poured into town, on horseback, to the number of two thousand, and took possession of every important point in the city. That day they disarmed every Union man who had not fled to Kansas, and sent squads of soldiers to the stores of loyal merchants to seize their goods. Upwards of 300 guns and revolvers were thus taken; every horse which had not been secreted or taken across the river was “pressed,' if the owner chanced to be loyal; and twenty-five wagon loads of clothing, groceries, stoves, tinware, cutlery, hats, caps, boots and shoes were taken out to the camp. The merchants thus despoiled, barred their doors, but the “press-gang' burst them open with crowbars, rushed in, and tumbled the goods into the streets in promiscuous heaps. In these squads were many “honest old farmers,” who improved the occasion to supply themselves liberally with such housekeeping articles as their families needed. Thus they emptied a store on Felix Street, the proprietors of which held the notes of some of the robbers for goods sold them before the war. A surgeon was lying sick in his house on Francis Street. A brother physician called on him, demanded and obtained the key to his office, took his case of amputating and surgical instruments and marched proudly out to the camp. Well-known citizens piloted these squads around the city, and indicated the degree of loyalty possessed by the owner of each store and dwelling. The doors of the leading wholesale drug-store in the city, though doubly barred and bolted, were smashed in, and everything taken which attendant surgeons and physicians fancied. “Friday, September I3th, the Confederate troops left the city, taking with them hundreds of horses, and goods to the value of at least fifty thousand dollars, taken from the Union men of St. Joseph and vicinity. Sullen, ragged, and silent, they marched toward Liberty, where they expected to join the command of General Price. Not a cheer welcomed their dread approach, nor their long prayed-for exit. They were the last body of Confederate soldiers that ever entered St. Joseph. ‘As the Confederates left St. Joseph, one thousand loyal Missourians, under Colonel Cranor, and a large number of troops belonging to the 16th Illinois, 2d Kansas, 3d Iowa and 39th Ohio regiments of volunteers, made their appearance to liberate the city, and the air was vocal with the cheers and huzzas of men and women who crowded to greet them. ‘The moment those forces came in sight, the railroad employes, to the number of nineteen, organized into a company, armed themselves, and selecting Thomas J. Woodburn as their leader, commenced retaliatory operations. Woodburn was as brave a boy as ever breathed. He afterward joined a Kansas regiment and was soon thereafter killed in an engagement with the enemy. His 'railroad fusiliers' marched to the stables of citizens who were suspected of Secession proclivities, and equipped themselves with horses, saddles and bridles. They thus confiscated about one hundred valuable animals which were soon mounted by the infantry, and hurried offin pursuit of the flying Confederates. Several of those horses were the property of men who had piloted Price's soldiers around the city, pointed out to them the stores and residences of Union citizens, and connived at their forcible entrance. Of course a few mistakes were made, but the evident intention was to balance accounts as closely as possible. So far as business was concerned, the city was a desolation. Every store was closed; squads of soldiers were congregated on the street corners, singing songs and making impromptu speeches; boisterous laughter greeted the song My Mary Ann as the notes from a quartet of male voices rolled it out on the disturbed air of the redeemed city; and enthusiastic cheers welcomed the appearance of the orator of the day who, mounted upon a dry-goods box, harangued the jubilant gathering upon the beauties of “the old Con-sti-tu-tion.” A regimental brass band attached to the I6th Illinois gave open-air concerts on the plaza surrounding the Central Market; companies of farmers on horseback, with old shotguns and corn-knives, and bearing the old flag, were constantly riding into the city; and Union men, feeling that their day had come, began to organize in earnest. ‘Hundreds of Missourians-and some who had, by their illegal voting and by bearing arms in the interest of Slavery on the soil of Kansas, attempted to crush out the Free State sentiment of their young neighbor-now gladly sought refuge in Elwood from the tyrannic hosts with which Slavery overran their own State. Among the citizens of St. Joseph who were compelled by the infuriated mob which dominated that city during the Conservative reign to flee for their lives across the river, were Robert Wilson, afterwards United States Senator; Ben. Loan, a native of Kentucky, afterward a Federal Brigadier General, and thrice elected to Congress from the St. Joseph district; Wm. R. Penick, a Missourian, and George H. Hall, a Virginian, each of whom did good service in the Union army, and rose to the rank of Brigadier General. Those men, and hosts of other fugitives, returned to their homes and eagerly enlisted to fight the common enemy. ‘In the city were several hundred Kansas soldiers, known to Missourians as “jayhawkers.' They appeared to be soldiers of fortune, rather than veterans eager to seek any bubble floating near the cannon's mouth. Their creed was evidently based upon the cardinal tenet that he who neglects to provide for his own household is tinctured with infidelity; and straightway they visited those merchants whom their rebel predecessors had failed to call upon. St. Joseph was thus made a shuttle-cock, and thoroughly battered between Missouri thieves and Kansas “hawks.' The latter made it a point to secure whatever their enemies had not carried off. They entered stores, and brought forth clothing, boots and shoes, handkerchiefs, dress-goods and laces. They emerged from a jewelry store playing upon violins, accordions, flutes and harmonicas and glittering in watch-chains, breast pins, rings and trinkets. They came out of ready and from which he died the next day. Mr. Leonard was the County Engineer, a very competent and thoroughly educated man, and a gentleman when sober, but of a most violent and ungovernable temper when frenzied with liquor. Before dying he expressed a regret that he should be shot in a street brawl rather than have perilled and lost his life in defence of the liberties of his adopted country. "Those who only know St. Joseph as the quiet, orderly city it is today, can hardly imagine its condition ten years ago. Then, the order of the Provost Marshal was supreme law, and that worthy issued some very singular statutes. One order forbade all fast riding and driving through the streets. On a certain Sabbath, a physician rode down Second Street at a furious rate, when a sentinel commanded him to halt. The indignant doctor, with more energy than politeness, invited him to visit the region made classic by Dante. Again the word 'halt' was given, and at the same time a musket was levelled. The disciple of Esculapius again directed all Black Republicans gens de armes to the infernal regions; but the sentence and the Sunday gallop were finished at the same instant. The crack of a rifle, the whiz of a Minie and the tumble of an infuriated physician were simultaneous occurrences, tending at once to break the Sabbath, and the thigh bone of one who paid no heed to the voice of wisdom crying in the streets. "In the month of December, 1861, General B. M. Prentiss arrived in St. Joseph with a large force, with which he proposed to invade the counties of Platte, Ray and Clay, and drive therefrom the bushwhackers who were there skulking, raiding, and murdering, under Gordon and other guerilla chiefs. General Loan was then in command of the post and was once serenaded by the regimental band on duty. On that occasion General Prentiss made a characteristic speech to the assembled crowd, and among his auditors were some of the wealthiest Confederates of the city. He said the Secession nabobs of St. Joseph must cease talking treason, and men who were disloyal should no longer be protected by Federal bayonets. The next day an order was issued forbidding all persons to leave the city without a permit from the Provost Marshal, and announcing that passes would be issued only to such parties as could furnish him with good and sufficient evidence of their loyalty. That day the city was filled with unsuspecting farmers who, like good-natured fish in a well-netted stream, were attracted into town by the splashing of the military and the hope of a brisk market for their loads of produce, but found the meshes of martial law too fine to permit their egress. In the evening the Marshal's office was thronged with countrymen who had attempted to run the blockade, but were turned back by a bayonet. Some declared their unwillingness to “take sides in the disturbance,' or pledge themselves to any line of conduct in the future. They were compelled to remain in the city indefinitely, and General Prentiss pressed their teams into the service of the Quartermaster who accompanied the expedition into the lower counties. Bankers, lawyers, ex-sheriffs and judges found their loyalty registered at zero in the Marshal's office, and were forced to tarry within the walls of a city which then possessed few attractions for them. This turn of affairs pleased the grinning “contrabands' immensely, and they congregated in little knots around the Provost's office and laughed hysterically over the difficulties of their former owners. One of them said: “Times is gittin better mighty fast. Colored man go jist where he please, but ole marser habtodonegit de papers afoah he kintrabbel. Nebber ’spected to see sich turnabout, shoah..'' ‘Several letters were intercepted by the authorities, generally taken from the persons of captured mail-carriers who had been operating between the rebels in the field and their friends at home. Sometimes these southward-bound missives contained the photograph of the person signing the document-with an assumed name-and the picture was found to be the counterpart of what passed in St. Joseph for a very loyal face. Nearly all of those letters contained the intelligence that the members of the North-western Division of the “Missouri State Guards' intended to eat their Christmas dinners in St. Joseph. Christmas came in due time, and though it found many hearts shrouded in gloom, with no star to pierce or gild its blackness, and no angel voice proclaiming the presence of one whose mission was to insure “Peace on earth, and goodwill to men,' yet every one of Jackson's flying brigands who ate a Christmas dinner in St. Joseph ten years ago was indebted to the Jailer for his table, and to the Quartermaster for his rations. ‘The Colonel of the 16th Illinois regiment of volunteers was Robert Smith, of Carthage, Illinois; a good, easy soul, whose only qualification for the position he held was the fact that he was engaged in the “Mormon War,' and wounded while in actual service-though there were not lacking irreverent wags to basely report that the Colonel was shot in the neck during the conflict with the Nauvoo Legion. Colonel Smith took possession of a high, bold bluff on the Missouri River, in the north-western corner of the town, called Prospect Point. On the top of this bluff was a plateau of several acres, and there the troops were encamped, about a mile from the business centre of the city. Intrenchments were thrown up, lofty battlements reared their frowning sides around the crest of the hill, and everything was so perfect, in a military point of view, that in the event of an enemy taking possession of the town, Colonel Smith could hold the hill. Although affording no protection to the citizens, they thought it might be a strategic point and, perhaps, as well to let Colonel Smith hold it as another. The steam ferryboat was tied at the foot of the hill and kept constantly fired up for an emergency. One pleasant day in December the citizens on Third Street were startled by a tremendous whizzing overhead, not unlike that produced by the discharge and flight of a ten-pound rocket. It was soon ascertained that it was caused by one of James's rifled projectiles, which was vigorously exerting itself to overcome the distance between the mouth of a cannon on Prospect Point and a huge target on the side of King Hill, two miles distant, in a direct line over the city. In a few moments another whiz and crash sent everybody into the streets to learn the cause of the cannonading. The first ball went a trifle more than halfway to the target, and buried itself under the platform of the passenger depot of the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad. The second did far more noble work; it went about half the distance to the target; tore through the cupola of a livery-stable adjoining the Allen House, on Fourth Street; crashed through a bowling-alley; struck the street outside and bounded a hundred feet; then shivered an obstinate fence-post, and ignominiously hid itself under an out-house in the heart of the city. This was the first and only bombardment St. Joseph was ever subjected to, and a petition, signed by the citizens, was immediately presented to Colonel Smith praying that, before again opening fire upon the city, he would notify the civil authorities, that the women and children might be removed. ‘Though the military authorities had complete control of the city, many of the inhabitants could not realize that this state of affairs was other than temporary in its nature, and for several months they privately indulged in bitter language toward the “invaders,” and expressed themselves strongly in favor of the Southern cause. One morning, in January, 1862, the pastor of the Methodist Church South invited a well-known loyal brother to lead in the exercise of prayer. The gentleman complied, and, in the course of his petition, prayed for the re-establishment of the Government within its lawful limits, and earnestly invoked divine aid in causing those who were engaged in insurrection to see the error of their ways and ground the weapons of their rebellion. On hearing this, several members of the circle rose from their knees, refusing to unite in such a petition. A committee waited upon the pastor and politely informed him that the offender must not again be invited to pray in that church; to which proposition the minister readily assented, and gave the brother notice of the feeling existing among the aggrieved petitioners. The brother who had dared to involve divine aid and favor upon the struggle for life in which this country was engaged, asked for a card, and concluded to withdraw his fellowship from its enemies. The matter was reported to the Provost Marshal, and the pastor was notified that he must not again occupy that desk. The church edifice was immediately placed in charge of loyal men. A presiding elder of the same church repaired to a place near the city to hold his regular quarterly meeting, but perceiving a Federal flag floating over the building in which the services were to be conducted, enquired what rag it was that so impudently flaunted in the pure air of Missouri. He refused to preach under its shadow; but the meeting, which he held in another place, was scarcely over when a squad of soldiers appeared with an order for the arrest of the tender-footed elder, who precipitately fled. In a small village, north of St. Joseph, a very respectable and worthy Union lady was walking the streets, on a certain afternoon, when a lawyer mounted a horse-block and began to cry her off at auction, as “one of Lincoln's mulattoes,’ and finally struck her off for a dime to a worthless bystander. The legal gentleman was permitted to pry into the mysteries of Blackstone inside of the jail of St. Joseph. Generally, a man who had only offended as this lawyer had was sent home with a safe-conduct on taking the ironclad oath, and promising to abstain from such conduct in the future; but hundreds refused to take this obligation. A minister of the Gospel from Andrew County was arrested and offered this alternative; but he answered, “Never, never! Let me have two hours of prayer and communion with my God and then take me out and shoot me; but don't force me to take such an obligation upon my soul. Shoot; but let me first seek my peace with my Creator!' ‘Slaves continued to flee across the river with unusual speed, and owners offered large rewards for their return. A minister of the Christian Church in St. Joseph offered two hundred dollars reward for the return of a man and woman who had thus shirked the blessings of chattel hood, and a prominent capitalist promised one hundred dollars to the person who would deliver to him “a very likely, light colored mulatto girl named Fanny, fifteen years old.' Five hundred dollars was offered for the return of four negro boys who had been so absent-minded as to take four horses with them. Forty-two “contrabands' crossed the river in a single night, and it seemed utterly impossible to check the stampede, either by newspaper advertisements of munificent rewards, or by the potent presence of Federal soldiers. An article in an Atchison journal gave information that negroes belonging to Missourians daily rode through that town on their masters' horses, and when interrogated concerning their destination, invariably replied, “We’re huntin’ ole Mars’er Jim Lane.” Those contrabands who stayed with their masters were continually informing against them, and seemed to have little or no confidence in their loyalty. One very bright negro was once questioned by a soldier as to the sincerity of his master who had recently taken the oath. He insisted that his master was a rebel, although sworn to be loyal. His argument was: “You take what's born in a man, and dat you is sure of What he takes after dat you can't bet on. Dis chile was born a slave; but if he wasn't born so, and you make him swear to be one, do you 'spect he keep de oaf' This is a fair specimen of the confidence which negroes had in the system of oath-taking, so universally prevalent in those days. But while on the subject of slaves, I must not omit to record the fact that the slave woman of the Provost Marshal ran away to Kansas, and he was ashamed to offer a reward for her recovery, albeit he ardently desired her return. ‘During the winter several companies of soldiers were quartered in buildings in different parts of the city, and a week of military housekeeping was sufficient to give every such building a most cheerless and desolate appearance. Odd Fellows' Hall, a large and imposing structure, in the very center of the city, was thus occupied, and its broken windows, battered doors and defaced walls betokened a sad state of demoralization on the part of the inmates. In 1859 there was no more fashionable resort in the West for the gay pleasure-seekers who thronged the fast young cities of the Border, than Beno's famous club-house on Main Street, St. Joseph. Its walls lined with gilt satin paper, its frescoed ceilings, its beautifully-carved counters and marble-top tables, were exceedingly attractive to the gaze of men who had long been accustomed to the rougher and less beautiful scenes of life. In 1862 this house was used as a stable, and I have counted not less than twenty cavalry horses standing and being groomed within its gilded walls. ‘The Confederate sympathizers were daily in receipt of messages from their friends, which were conveyed as mysteriously as those which are said to come from the spirit-world. Every such scrap of information was termed by the soldiers “news by the ox telegraph.” One day they drove through the streets a mammoth bullock, the horns of which were gaily decorated with ribbons of red, white and blue, while its portly form was placarded, before and behind, with war-bulletins announcing the complete and utter annihilation of the Federal army and the inauguration of Jeff Davis at Washington. Between the horns was suspended a banner on which were the words, “Twelve hours ahead of the lightning line.” A large procession of mounted soldiers followed the ox through the city, and the cavalcade was greeted with deafening cheers. One morning an ox was found lying dead upon the curbstone on Third Street. The soldiers turned out and buried it with all the honors of war, some of which were of an entirely original character. Much sensitiveness was manifested by rebel women concerning the multiplicity of flags in the city, and the necessity of their walking under their shadow. Many females would travel whole squares out of their route to avoid seeing the hated emblem of loyalty. The postmaster pasted a miniature paper flag over the ladies' window in the post-office, thus compelling every woman who called for her mail to stand for a short time under the protecting folds of a flag which thousands of the sex despised. After the women learned this, they invariably sent their colored servants to enquire at that window for their letters. ‘On a certain night in July, 1862, the soldiers nailed flags over the doors of almost all the leading rebels in the city. They stealthily entered the Baptist church and hung flags over the pulpit and in the organ-loft. Such proceedings caused more swearing than was expected by the Provost Marshal. Almost every Secessionist had a rebel flag secreted in his house, which he would display when friends were present; but soldiers searched all suspected houses and premises, and captured every such emblem. ‘An order was issued for all able-bodied men to enroll themselves for service in the Federal cause, and every man ordered to deliver to the Provost Marshal his arms and ammunition, which were to be returned on proof of loyalty. From every direction men poured into the city bearing shotguns, muskets, rifles, bowies and corn-knives. Of all the queer, quaint and curious affairs in the shape of deadly weapons ever seen by mortals, the specimens carried in and delivered up by the "deluded brethren' capped the climax. There was not a serviceable gun in the entire outfit. Some pieces were as rusty as Michael's old carbine with which he fought Satan, and others were held together with tow-strings, the stock being tied to the barrel and the lock thus fastened to the stock. Some were bent like a ram's horn, and others were broken at the muzzle, split at the breech, and burnt in the priming chamber. The owners claimed that those were all the arms possessed by them; but a little industry on the part of the soldiers generally brought from their hiding places on the premises of such men arms of a much more serviceable character. But when the enrolling officer began his duty, there did not appear an able-bodied man in the entire crowd. Each did all in his power to convince the examining surgeon of his physical inability to serve acceptably in the army of the Lord; but frivolous excuses availed nothing, and nearly all were mustered in. A large number of sympathizers met and organized a Conservative company; but the soldiers surrounded their drill-room, made prisoners of the entire company, confined them for several days in a building, on the corner of Third and Felix Streets, and eventually sent nearly all of them out of the State. ‘A large force of bushwhackers was reported to be within six miles of the city, and the citizens were ordered under aIIS, Stores and saloons were closed at 4 P.M. and every able-bodied man was in line on Second Street, and drilling under competent officers. About 6 o'clock Sunday evening, September 21, 1862, a wagon containing several men was driven from the Elwood ferry-landing up Frederick Avenue. One of the passengers was covered with blood, and one end of a rope which was tied about his neck was held by another party in the vehicle. The wagon passed up the avenue followed by a very excited crowd of citizens, who blocked up the streets for a full half mile. The wagon stopped in front of the Avenue Brewery, owned by Mr. Fritzlin, who it was then learned had just been brutally ΤΥ1ι 1Τdered in a saloon in Elwood by the man with the rope about his neck. The wagon proceeded up the avenue, and the crowd followed their victim to a clump of large cottonwood trees standing on a hill overlooking the once famous "Highley Spring,” near Nineteenth Street and Frederick Avenue. Here a score of men seized the rope, pulled the murderer from the wagon and dragged him to a tree. After brutally beating and pounding him, they tied him to the body of the tree, and preparations were hurriedly made to hang him. Mr. R. F. Maxwell, the Coroner of the county, mounted the wagon-box and attempted to reason with the mob and persuade them to desist from taking the life of the victim until he was granted some sort of a trial. His efforts were seconded by several other citizens, and a vote of those present was taken and a majority expressed itself in favor of giving the man a fair trial, before a jury selected from the bystanders, and hanging him on the spot, if found guilty. Instantly a squad of armed soldiers forced their way into the crowd and rescued the prisoner, who begged them to shoot him and end his sufferings. He was conducted to the jail, the crowd quietly dispersed, and by dark the city was apparently as calm as ever. The murdered man was a German, recently from Leavenworth, and the excitement among his countrymen was intense, many of them swearing openly to avenge his death. The next day the funeral was attended by all of the military and a large concourse of citizens, General Hall-the Lieutenant Governor of the State-and his full staff leading the cortege. The military marched from the grave to Turner Hall, where the General briefly addressed them, stating that he, as well as the entire community, was greatly shocked at the outrage perpetrated on that community by an outlaw from Kansas; but all must demean themselves as order-loving citizens; the murder was committed within the Military Department of Kansas, whither the criminal must be sent for trial. The murderer was sent across the river into Doniphan County, where he was confined in jail till the following spring, when he was released on bail. At II o'clock, on Saturday night, May 16, 1863, a party of men called at the house of the murderer and ordered him to go with them. The next morning his body was found in the Missouri River, near the Elwood shore, perforated with more than seventy bullets. During the winter and spring of 1862-3 a company of Colorado soldiers was stationed in the city, the members of which were frequently engaged in quarrels with the citizens, and, as the Coloradoans were desperadoes, the result of such difficulties was that someone was killed or severely wounded. One of these soldiers entered a saloon on Second Street, in the afternoon of Tuesday, May 19, 1863, quite drunk and noisy, and flourishing a revolver over his head. Captain Charles Mast quietly stepped in and pleasantly asked him to desist from his loud and boisterous language. The soldier instantly shot the Captain twice, one ball entering his arm, and another penetrating his abdomen, from which latter wound he died in a few moments. The Union cause had not a more sturdy and faithful defender than Captain Mast. ‘Thus did affairs continue in St. Joseph, with varying fortunes, the citizens experiencing the lights and shadows of military occupation, but gradually drawing toward the full sunlight of perfect freedom from every kind of tyranny. The loyal men finally obtained full and perfect control of the counties of Northwest Missouri, and no outrage was permitted to go long unpunished. On the night of July 8, 1863, a noted young guerilla named Jo. Hart, with twelve men, made a raid into Andrew County, about twelve miles from St. Joseph, and killed three citizens. Hart was a young, promising and tolerably well educated boy of Andrew County, and generally respected before the war. He gained considerable notoriety as an orator, having distinguished himself in some of his efforts as a member of a debating society in his native town. He was lured into the camp of the enemy by the tinsel and show of military parades, and soon came out a full-fledged bushwhacker. His first visit to his old neighbors was speedily returned. The citizens of that county turned out in great numbers and hunted the murderers day and night. They pursued them more than a hundred miles, killed Hart and eleven of his gang, and brought the twelfth into St. Joseph, where he was promptly tried for murder, found guilty and hung. Such speedy retribution effectually prevented a recurrence of similar outrages. ‘From those eventful days to the present, when St. Joseph is in the enjoyment of the largest measure of wealth, prosperity and contentment, the time passed with no specially prominent events; but gradually peace, with its attendant train of blessings, found an abiding place there, which I trust will be eternal. -Chas. B. Wilkinson